World Tree MUSH

    It's either just after dawn or just before dusk, the rising or setting of the sun left a mystery. Amber-orange hues bathe the horizon and fade into lighter blues and darker purple gradients that paint the wide, thin clouds in contrasting shades. A field of verdant grasses, interspersed with dense, scattered outcroppings of trees, is pock-marked with structures that were once made of concrete and wood, though most have been reduced to their foundations, their walls turned to short crags, and the roads that had once ran between them all but reclaimed by the vegetation. A few buildings remain intact, thuogh none of the roofs seem to have withstood the reclamation process. A slight chill permeates the air, with low-hanging fog just barely settled above the ground further towards the horizon. The rustle of leaves and the sounds of birds and the occasional other small animals carried on a breeze can be picked out by discerning ears.

    Overhead, the brightest pinpoints of a blanket of stars are visible. First one, then a second and third and few dozen more pinpoints streak across the sky, flashes that are gone as soon as the eye catches them.

    It isn't but a few moments after the starfalls that something, or, more accurately, someone begins to stir within the tall grasses uprooting what remains of the blacktop's gravel. A groan, more humanlike that bestial is uttered as Autrielle rolls from her side and onto her knees. The gloss of crimson feathers catches the ambient light as she stretches her wings out and shakily stands, then sets about dusting herself off and taking inventory of herself.

Ace s not sure at all what world she has wandered into. At many levels, she doesn't even care at this point. The Professor isn't here, he hasn't found her, so she might as well explore and have fun. The starfall catches her attention. Light eyes narrow as the young woman turns towards it. It's just a meteor shower, nothing indicates to her that anything is likely to hit the ground below, so she turns her attention to that. Is there...yes, there's somebody emerging from the grass. Ace regards her and then changes course slightly.

Coming to the Lower Trunk seemed like a good idea at the time.

Yeah, no, screw this, thinks Serrah as she makes her way through the area, shapeshifted into a black cat with a red streak in its hair and unnaturally red eyes. She's been successful at evading Vincent and Mina, but the current trek has left her more confused than anything else; she isn't even sure whether she has eight hours left or one hour before the sun rises and lowers her level of capability.

Her ears twitch at the sight of the starfall, but it's the groan that catches her attention, and she promptly turns and starts trotting over. If this is some sort of hero nonsense for her to get involved in, she's going to be annoyed ...

     The roar of a motor echoes down the roads of asphalt and plastic, rubber burning against the surface as a vehicle turns a corner and hastily accelerates away. Tall city skyscrapers blot out the sky as the hijacked vehicle screams its way along in a real hurry. The air is filled with smog and the blackness of tainted exhaust streams from behind the metal machine. 

     Not too far behind a different vehicle also turns the corner, not quite as in control, and nearly fishtails into a collision with a vehicle going to opposite way. A shower of sparks flies off over the blacktop as one scrapes against the other, but the pursuer is not daunted. "Turn right! Alleyway!" commands a voice from a figure riding in the open-air back. Hands grip bars as the tall wolfman aims to keep balance. A single eye looks downward to the gun at his side. He'll open fire if the other vehicle gets any closer, but chances are they have guns, too. 

     Drifting around a corner and just barely clearing the limited width into an alleyway, the wolf and his driver seek a very different type of escape from the ones chasing: there's a Vine they know of that should lead to a side World. The rev of the motor behind them shows that the other car gets banged up in following, slowed down, but not undaunted. "Head down, gun it! The rest will be waiting for us on the other side to take down this brat." 

     The world begins to shift, a transition from one reality to another, but instead of winding up in a World where an ambush and exfiltration aircraft is prepped...the landscape shifts into something else entirely. "What the heck...?" !!! "Tree. TREE!" he yells to the driver as an unexpected obstacle -- no, many obstacles, -- make an appearance. The sound of the vehicle likely booms an appearance. ...strangely, there is no car following behind them.

     Fionn exhales a breath. There are certainly better ways to lay in a course! But a commanding officer can passenger side drive as much as he wants. The fox has to lean up on the wheel to see quite enough to make the swipe into the vine, and then there's a swift pumping of breaks, the screeching of gears, and spinning of tires. Tree is grazed, paint is scraped, and heads are jostled before coming to a hissing stop. 
     "... yeah, few of those." The fennec-lad unclips a tazer from his utility and peeks his twin eartips over the edge of the window. "... well. I was itching for an expedition anyway. We all in one piece?" 
     So much for a quiet entrance, though. It's not going to take him long to figure out they're not alone.

    Another languid stretch of Autrielle's wings later, a furling-unfurling-furling action, and apparent satisfaction that she's more or less intact is accompanied with a wide yawn. She hasn't noted the cat, or the young woman, and remains in place. One hand comes to rest on the pommel of her sword, a gentle grip that seems bred more out of comfort and habit than alarm or antagonism as she looks around at the landscape. A glance to her left is interrupted by the sound of Wolf's machine, which does bring her to a much more heightened and alert state. Several more snaps of her head and eyes search the area around her, and a quick trot to the side gives her visual cover from the direction of the vehicle and it's occupants. Half of her face profiles itself around the corner, a sharpened elven ear and an eighth of a red-feathered wing more visible than the rest.

Ace tilts her head a little, then turns it towards the car. Which she waves to, before turning back towards...wait, where did...oh, "Your wing is sticking out," she informs Autrielle in dry, British-accented tones. There's a slight smile on her lips. She doesn't seem bothered by anything that might be going on around her. Or the tree's peccadilloes, which might well affect her next time they occur.

At the sudden boom of Wolf and Fionn's arival, the cat disappears in a swirl of shadow, which billows upward --

-- and then suddenly, as abruptly as a video skipping ahead, the shadow vanishes, replaced by a scruffy vampire several feet to the left. (Her hair is still black and has a single red streak, though, not to mention the cat-ear-like tufts.) She's staring at the oncoming vehicle with one hand holding a baseball and the other reaching into the sports bag at her hip. "Well, then," she says, before turning back to face Ace and Autrielle. "Uh. Hi?"

     "Yeah. Sure." The response the Fennec Fox Person gets from the Wolf Person in a dry manner. It's not Fionn's fault, after all. Exasperated, the lupine sighs loudly and presses a few fingers to the bridge of his snout while shaking his head. "I mean, at least they didn't follow us." 

     As O'Donnell pulls his hand from his face, the device over his left eye catches movement. One hand goes to his gun...but then he sees it's a wave in greeting. And, well, then he sees who it is. "That's a mug I haven't seen in a while," he asides to Fionn regarding Ace and turns to hop out of the back of the vehicle that would look just fine in a post-apoc setting involving cars. "How's the vehicle look from in there -- hey, hand me my..." Fionn's boss reaches through the glassless window to point at something. A cigarette pack has fallen to the floorboard after the bump into the presumably wooden pillar. "They're down there. Just...stay alert, Nichols. That wormhole dropped us somewhere strange. I bet something's up. We better check it out."

    Autrielle most definitely missed Ace in the process of her rousing, and all but visibly jumps at the sound of the woman's voice, going rigid and flashing a straight, thin-lipped horizontal frown across her face. She takes a step back, then, having been exposed. Self-consciously, she grips the pommel of her sword more tightly before taking another step back from Ace, who is given a very thorough head-to-toe study. Once more, Autrielle's eyes dart towards the direction of the loudest of the entrants. There's visible tension of muscles in her body, and a faint trembling twitch at the end of her right wing.

    "I have no quarrel with you,"

    Autrielle states simply, matter-of-factly, her mezzo-alto voice restrained, and tinted with traces of Nordic accent. Immediately, both of her ears prick up and splay slightly, and her head twists to stare in the direction of Serrah, or rather, the pillar of shadow and the vampire that replaces it.

    "Nor with you." If Serrah, or one of the others are paying especially close attention, Autrielle's hand shifts from the pommel of one sword to the hilt of the other. The banter between Wolf, Fionn, Ace, and the others is watched with some curiousity.

     "Good. If I have to patch you back together, I'm worried you'd come out smaller." Fionn glances out the window a moment, and... ahh. Priorities. There's a flurry of parts sticking out and scrambling before a pack is chucked back in Wolf'd direction with practiced accuracy. Then the engine switches off, the door kicks open, and he steps out congenially; the caution of the weapon appears stowed for the moment. 
     "'evenin'. Or mornin'. Can never tell half these hops." He rubs his palms together vigorously and scans over who he can see. Ears swivel a bit for who he can't, radarring as one does. "Far be it from us to pass up an opportunity to make friends and influence people... ahh...."

There's a brief pause, and then Serrah stuffs the baseball back into her sports bag. "Me neither," she says. "I've just got my own reasons for bein' a bit jumpy."

She looks over Wolf and Fionn with neither surprise nor any sign of recognition. She shoots Fionn a lopsided smirk. "If it helps, I can't tell either," she says, before peering back at Autrielle with a bit more nervousness than is perhaps warranted. The part of her which has a healthy level of out-and-out terror for creatures of the Light is giving her very mixed signals. "Uh. What kind of 'friends and influence' are we talking about here?"

A thorough head-to-toe study? The young woman appears to be unarmed, although there might be something in the backpack casually thrown over one shoulder. Her hair is secured in a practical manner, and her dress is equally sensible. Combat boots. She moves like somebody with a lot of awareness of and control over her body. "Hi," she says, dryly.

     Heavy booted footfalls mark each of the lupine's steps taken through the scrub toward the one Wolf met previously named Ace. Two cigarettes are placed just between those thin black lips and a lighter is brought up to light each in turn. Tucking the lighter away, O'Donnell plucks one of the tobacco sticks away and flips it over in offering to her. "Seems the universe just can't keep us apart. I'd rather taken the cantina back on Tatooine, but, heck, a drink is a drink. Sadly, we're dry. I'd offer a raincheck, but -- does it even rain here? Hopefully it's not...HCl or something." 

     Not only is the wolf tall and strong looking, but he wears stuff akin to some sort of biker gear and a device over his left eye attached to an HMD. This 'one-eyed' gaze is passed in the direct of Serrah at first, but then it trails to where everyone else is looking: Autrielle. 

     "Sooooo, who's your friend? Gonna introduce us or is this supposed to be a more civilized First Contact type situation?"

     "It helps a bit at that! Lots of convergence here for so~me reason." Fionn muses, though does not deny his own particular fondness for the phrase: "'s a turn of phrase, and a rather bad one at that... 'm only worried about the friend part." 
     All new faces. Seems the boss gets out and about more often than he does. He starts a slow and cautious stroll, as curious about their new company as they are about the enviornment here. "No quarrel," he eventually affirms, at least for his part, and waves his palms up. "Fionn, if anyone's curious." And if not, never hurts. Best to get such things out of the way in due order though. Seems he's different habits than the Wolf for getting a feel for a situation.

    In the moments that pass, Autrielle's expression shifts, contemplatively, both of her eyebrows narrowing as she keeps furtive gaze that bounces between the four. With her lips pursed together in thought, she begins to process and work through the situation she's presented with. She crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself and presenting as non-threatening an a stance as she can to Serrah, though when Wolf affixes his own gaze at her, Autrielle stares back, pointedly, though her analysis seems much more reserved.

    "Autrielle."

    Another glance is taken towards the horizon, and the indifferent, perpetual dawn-dusk.

    "I doubt this place is real. The horizon. The grass, the buildings,"

    She begins, finally taking a few steps over towards the remnant of wall that she had been taking cover behind, and first dragging a finger along the stonework, she then rolls a small bit of the crumbling facade between her fingers. "Which means that you're probably not real, and that they lied to me, and this is another test," Autrielle continues, more to herself. She seems disappointed, and angry, almost exuding the emotions.

"Nah, it's real," Ace says. "I do believe we're on a planet that's tidally locked, though." The dawn-dusk would indicate that, as would something about the wind. She folds her arms. "Not that I haven't been acused of not being real before..."

Serrah raises her hand at Wolf's question. "I don't have a freaking clue what's going on, the Vines just dropped me here," she says. "I'm Serrah." She looks like she's about to add something sarcastic about her name, but then just shrugs. She nods to Fionn. "Okay, awesome," she says. "'Friend', I can do. Nice to meet you all."

She laughs hollowly at Autrielle's conclusion. "My shitty life for the past five months would like to have words with the idea that I'm not real," she says. "Uh. You're in this ... multidimensional space called the World Tree, and the 'tree' part isn't actually a metaphor." She looks between Wolf, Fionn, and Ace with the expression of someone who really hopes they can explain things better than her.

     O'Donnell awkward-coughs a bit before glancing aside to Fionn. "...definitely a First Contact type situation." Of course, during this, he continues to hold the offered cigarette out to Ace a little bit longer. He might be insulted if he weren't interested in the turn of events. "Okay, here." 

     Somebody has to break this eggshell dance. Wolf walks away from Ace, past Fionn, by Serrah, toward the one having trouble accepting reality for whatever reason is deemed necessary. "No need to lay down a handful of metaphysical rhetoric." Wolf holds that cigarette out in his hand, fearlessly approaching Autrielle, as a bit of an offering. Sure, she sounds angry -- almost feels angry -- but it doesn't stop the grizzled wolf from doing so. 

     "It's a cigarette. You pull smoke through it to taste." The crackle of ember-smoldering leaf in his own demonstrates the process with a brighter glow. Sure, this sudden bold style of introduction could bring about a physical reprisal, but...ultiamtely, that would serve the point being made just as well.

Ace glances at O'Donnell, "Sorry, I don't smoke," she explains finally. She was distracted by the not real comment, not trying to be rude! Maybe Autrielle will want it.

     "I'd be more than happy to trade philosophy on what is real and what isn't, but I assure you that we're functioning and independent life." Fionn rubs a hand back, catching an ear and *fwipping* it up in thought. "Though we're not from 'around' here and I can't give you an idea how 'real' here is. Left my tricorder in the other truck." Yes, way to make things... easier. 
     "Sooo....." Fionn smiles and waves off with a hand. "Who's 'they'? Or are we on a need to know basis?"

    "I've been to this tea party before, Alice," Autrielle says, assumingly to Serrah, in that same calm voice, though slightly more distant, her eyes rolling up and to the left as she accesses her memories. "Several times. Real isn't always real, and sometimes, especially when it seems fake, it is real. If this is real, then. . ." Another frustrated, disgruntled frown plasters itself across Autrielle's face as she gives up trying to make non-sense of the world. Her eyes remain closed as Wolf approaches, both of her nostrils flaring to breathe in the scent. "Thank you." She accepts the cigarette, but doesn't partake in it, simply holding it by her side. "I appreciate your sacrifice." Re-crossing her arms, the cigarette is left to slowly burn itself out, the ash at the end accumulating into a limp, curled grey arc. "I'm supposed to ask for help, or she's supposed to ask for help," Autrielle continues, motioning towards Serrah with the cigarette, causing the ash to float away on the light breeze as she opens her eyes and looks with a frown towards the horizon, yet again. "If this is real, then we're at a. . ."

    Another pause, as Autrielle tries to gather her thoughts and explain them as concisely as she can, her tonguetip balancing itself against the point of a fang. "We're at a higher latitude. Like where I went to sleep." Another study of the structures around her causes Autrielle to frown once more. "They told me I would wake up somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn't there, that wasn't an instance."

"I'm real, but I'd say that even if I wasn't." Then she frowns. She indicates something in the distance. "I'm going to go check that out. It looks suspiciously like..." Something clanky. Hopefully she's wrong. "I'll yell if I need help." Then the girl sets off through the grass at a good, practiced clip.

Serrah frowns at Wolf's offering, wondering what the hell he's trying to do. And then, belatedly, understanding dawns. "Hey," she says, "at least give it a puff. There's not much that's realer than a cigarette." She gives Ace a goodbye-wave, then turns back to Autrielle. "Anyway, like. You don't 'have' to do anything, I'm just venting." She looks like she's about to follow up on this, but just waits as Autrielle starts working herself through the logic (or indeed non-logic) of the situation. For all she knows, anything she says could accidentally confirm Autrielle's suspicions.

     O'Donnell offers the next step. Not every society understands the gesture and of those that do not all will reciprocate. All the same, the hand that handed the cigarette over is held out once more, arm extended, hand forming a vertical plane while the thumb casually rests lifted from the fingers. Sure, fingerless gloves sleeve the details of the hand save for the fingertips and claws, but the offered handshake is there. By any chance it is accepted, the grip would be very firm but not at all crushing. 

     "Look, my name is Lord Wolf O'Donnell. I don't know your story, kitten, but I can say that, in the matter of safety and survival, you have to treat even surreal situations as if apparent and hidden dangers both pose a threat." Wolf is far from a generous and giving person. However, he is a businessman. "So, real or not, no matter the reason you're here or not here, I suggest you find some shelter and sustenance." 

     A glance is given upward at the odd sky. Weather patterns could be severe and abrupt with this type of oddity ongoing. "Now, as luck has it, I'm sure we can all help with that," offers Wolf as he turns at the waist to look back and uses a hand to gesture a circle, including everyone present. "So, instead of standing in a field, maybe we can all at least sit and hear each other out."

     Fionn folds his arms and lets Wolf take proper charge with a smile. "And as for help... well, should be rightfully obvious we're the helping sort." Maybe kindness is its own reward! Or maybe it has its own way to come back around. Still, starting things out on the right foot, stunted or not, never hurts. He licks at his nose, wrinkles a bit at the drifting cigarette smoke and starts scouring for a suitable place to duck for a short spell. "... suppose running into the sunset is an option, too." He lifts a hand to Ace, and then starts busying himself with studying the remnants of the structures here. He can keep up a conversation well enough with those ears.

    "I shouldn't smoke it. If here is not real, and I partake in something real, then here becomes real, and I don't want to be responsible for that, or be here when that happens," Autrielle explains in her cryptic manner, the sharper Nordic accent coming out just slightly. Rolling the end of the cigarette between her fingers, the burning part falls to the grasses below and smolders as the rest of the tobacco left in it is scattered by the wind. The unsmoked portion is tucked away, presumably for later, and she offers Wolf the closest thing to a smile that she can manage as her own gloved hand takes Wolf's. "Perfected Golden Feminine Pyramidic Lambda Lambda Lambda Uriel Algorithm, Zhe Analogue. Autrielle is easier for most people to remember, since there aren't many that can speak in colors and three dimensions."

    Tilting her head towards the semi-wrecked machine after Wolf's short speech, she continues, "You're attempting to take advantage of what you perceive as naivete on my part. I'm supposed to tell you that my world has been dying. There's a more lengthy explanation that comes after I positively evaluate your ability to help. That is, if there is anyone left here that can help."

    Regarding Serrah again, she stretches her wings out. "None of the Deities can actually save my world, because they have no physical bodies. So they made me, and others like me."

Serrah instantly rankles the minute Wolf says the word "lord", but relaxes just as quickly. "You're nothing like the stuffed-shirt hereditary lords where I'm from," she says dryly, glancing over at Fionn. "I take it you're self-made?" There's still a touch of sharpness to her tone, though.

She hesitates as Autrielle gives her 'real' speech. "... You know what, I almost understood that," she says. "Maybe I should get drunk and have her explain it again."

She considers the rest of the issue. "If there's no one here to help, we could always try another Blossom," she murmurs. Hah, she actually remembered the lingo this time! "Also, I can stop time," she adds. "I'm not mentioning it because I want to help, but, like ..." She glances around. "Full disclosure, in case the asshole Duke who turned me into a vampire regains control of me and figures out I can do it and tries to use it against anyone here." Said practically all in one breath.

And then she stops and shakes her head. "Shit, I said 'my life' before."

     The cigarette hanging from Wolf's muzzle droops more and more as the introduced name goes on and, eventually, this ends up with the tall wolfman lifting an eyebrow. He reaches up to pull the stick from his mouth as he turns away more fully to wander back toward the vehicle. "Hey, until you decide to actually step up to the fact that this is real, you're welcome to draw whatever conclusions you'd like. All I can do is offer sound advice. You're welcome to stand here and contemplate -- I'm not going to take that from you." 

     A deep drag on the cigarette is followed by a long slow exhalation from the nose as he walks. Wolf's steps pause near Serrah, though, and gestures with the cigarette-holding hand while offering an aside. "I control a sizable amount of space and guard it well and have landholdings across my star system and, now, in other worlds." The all-too-casual explanation is ended by replacing that cigarette to his mouth. There. Eggshell dance stopped. 

     He speaks up as he continues toward the scraped-up car, "The offer stands, by the way, but if you don't want help setting up a place here we can, as, uh, Sarah, was it? As Sarah said, there are other places. Lands. Worlds. Planets. Dimensions. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. You just have to let us know."

     A Fennec mouths the word 'algorithm?' and his ears perk. He seems to be busily gathering small samples while listening to the conversation. He smiles softly to Serrah and shakes his head. "I'm salvage. Started academy, went rogue, now I work under this big bad Wolf." He jerks a free thumb towards Lord O'Donnel, before fading a bit. "So if he's cutting a deal, I'm cutting a deal. 'n if he's giving out of the bleeding generosity of his heart, well..." Try not to tempt the vampires, maybe. 
     And well, there are just other things on his mind. "There are universes that can be simulations. I'm wondering if we'll actually stumble into one one of these days, and if they'd actually be any less... real. There are other natural laws that come into play though. The constant twists on.. uh.. constants has been a headache and a half." He rubs at the side of his face and moves to another spot. "Speaking in colors sounds.. nice, actually."

    Autrielle frowns as Fionn mentions simulations. "That's what I mean by real and not-real. I was created in a not-real instance. A simulation. They are every bit as real as real is. That's what they don't, and can't understand. Forty years, created and gone in two seconds, but just as much real to the observer." She stares at Wolf's smoldering cigarette, then, almost in accusation, before walking towards the machine. As she nears Fionn, she states, "It took me thirty-three cycles before I was able to positively identify differences between what was real and what was not real. A new record, they said. Jesus Christ, they exclaimed. Don't ask me about my mother." Gloved hand on pommel again, Autrielle tucks her wings back and stands near the vehicle. "You're the solution, for now, in this moment." Looking over her shoulder towards Serrah, she quirks an eyebrow. "The state of your body is inconsequential. I've met dead people that were more alive than the living, and live people that might as well have been dead. Fancy a spot of tea?" She asks, indicating the vehicle and seeming to question whether Serrah was going to join them.

"'Sarah' is correct," says Serrah, "I just use a horseshit spelling for reasons that seemed like a good idea at the time." And then, much more derisively, "My full title is 'Countess Serrah Delany of House D'Ambrosio of the Hartford Empire'." She does not seem the least bit happy about this. Though at Fionn's comment about changing constants, she chortles. "Tell me about it! The World Tree is wild."

She furrows her brow at Autrielle's discussion of the living and the dead, as if she'd been given a detailed explanation on the sky being blue and water being wet. "Well ... yeah," she says simply. "I just keep forgetting I'm dead for, like, one word."

She frowns at the offer, and glances over her shoulder. "Actually, I'd probably better jet," she says. "I need to stay three steps ahead of His Grace, and I don't like the feeling I'm getting at the moment." She waves to all and sundry. "Later, gators!" And then she vanishes into thin air, presumably using her time-stop to move herself closer to the nearest Vine in the blink of an eye.

     "Relax. This whole traveling between worlds thing is pretty jarring for most people, but, I'll have you know, there are plenty of outposts stationed all around in other dimensions and on other planets that specialize with helping newcomers get acquainted with their new possibilities." 

     O'Donnell slaps the hood of the car as he nears it. It's obvious why he wasn't riding in the front, really. He's tall and the vehicle was built with those a bit smaller in mind, although probably not as short as Nichols. "As it just so happens, I've actually helped a number of you New Travelers already. Probably why the World Tree decided to have us nearly eat a tree in order to get here. So..." 

     Wolf turns and sits on the hood with a protest from the frame, but it's already banged up so what's another dent. "Fionn is your personal chauffeur today. Where are we going? We giving you a ride around the block or what?" As he speaks, that cigarette bobs up and down, but he soon pulls it away after one last drag and flicks it off into the grasses. Hopefully that won't lead to a fire, but it's not like people are sticking around, right? 

     "Describe to us your ideal next destination and we'll see where we can find to drop you off, unless, of course, you're coming back home with us, but...you probably don't want that."

     Fionn becomes lost in thought for a while, uncharacteristically silent while he finishes gathering what materials and readings he needs from this place. A half-swish and a wave is given to Serrah, a bit too late. "I've thought about the possibility of using dimension-level simulations to recreate and study instances from our world, but... as you say. Every bit of real as real is. Besides, I'm not much more than a glorified mechanic." 
     He shrugs heartily at that and bounds to his feet. "Welp, as you say. Promise we'll be smooth sailing. If we have to take any hops I'll take us in slow-like. And uh, help yourself to the amenities? I guess we're officially in road trip mode now..."

    Autrielle exhales an embittered sigh, then closes her eyes for a long moment. "It's too similar. There's too much that's. . .But maybe that's why. . .But if it isn't, then it is, then it has to be, and it was." She shakes her head a few times, as if trying to shake herself free of whatever thought-loop she'd found herself stuck in. "Oh. Ohhh. That's how they. . .That's sinister," Autrielle mutters to herself, wholly ignoring Wolf and Fionn for the moment as some sort of realization dawns on her. Careful of her wings, which fold and furl themselves up around her shoulders and chest, Autrielle finds a spot in the vehicle. "You said there's other worlds? I'm supposed to find one to migrate all the humans to, if there's no way of terraforming my world. There are nine-hundred and seventeen souls left, and about ten thousand or so humans. I need to go somewhere that I can make my appeal to as many leaders as possible."

     The vehicle has one passenger seat, one driver seat, and the spot in the back for cargo or whatever has been modified to allowed somebody to sit or stand there. As Autrielle enters the non-driver seat, Wolf slides off of the hood and circles around behind the vehicle to climb in. His feet plant along either side of the rectangular lump back there covered by a rough fabric to obscure anything there and his hands grip the built-on railings. 

     The matter of the stranger's world's plight is brought out completely and, well, that's a lot of people to traffic and Wolf just isn't going to openly offer to front the bill for something like that. "Yeah, we know of a few places where you can try and I wish I had better advice for you on the matter," he says from his position. "At the very least, as a start, they can help set you up with a place to stay and might offer some job opportunities. I...have to look out for a lot of people myself, you see, but when it comes down to it you have to take care of yourself. This journey to save your people, dealing with real or simulation, encountering Worlds and Peoples that could be familiar yet alien at the same time, is going to take a lot out of you." 

     "Trust me." A slap is given to the top of the vehicle. "Let's get turned around. With some luck we'll wind up where we planned on being and we won't have to drive this thing around too much longer."

     Fionn looks over his shoulder, listening as much as he is making sure they don't back smack into another tree. It's not exactly road topography, but motion settles in after a while. The mad maxxy rig is built to handle it, at least. "Ten thousand is... not bad for a refugee count." He says through bitten words and caution. "'s a big multiverse and there are a few folks that fancy themselves philanthropists." There have been worse excursions. There's got to be somewhere to put them. But point A to point B, well, that's going to be a journey." 
     Fionn leans over and flicks a connected casette into the stereo, kicking in with some thick snares and synth sounds. "Buckle up. The jump's a little sudden.~"